


Tipoca Days

by Izzerslololol



Series: Mereel and the Galaxy [3]
Category: Star Wars: Clone Wars (2003) - All Media Types, Star Wars: Republic Commando Series - Karen Traviss, Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008) - All Media Types
Genre: Brotherhood, Brothers, Clones, Gen, Mando'a
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2008-03-25
Updated: 2008-07-19
Packaged: 2017-12-04 12:35:24
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 691
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/710845
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Izzerslololol/pseuds/Izzerslololol
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Two short snapshots of ARC N-7's young days on Kamino.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. I swear I didn't put those...

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> For once, he was telling the truth.

“I swear I didn’t put those sonic dets there,” Mereel growled through his teeth and hit the heel of his hand to his ear. The distressing _ringing_ hadn’t dissipated.

“Troopers don’t have access to demolitions storage outside of the training facilities," Ordo hissed behind him. “And our _vode_ agreed on a different travel route, _Mer’ika_. That leaves _you._ ”

Young N-7 frowned as he made a sharp but silent turn down the ventilation shaft, clambering noiselessly down the metal tunnel, and came to a stop when the ceiling opened upwards. With the ease of a man who’s traveled this route a thousand times, he popped his helmet back on and spidered up the vertical shaft.

The metal grating shifted easily enough under his gauntlets, and he hauled himself – Phase One armor and all – out onto the abandoned ground floor.

Mereel pondered the wisdom of pointing out their time-frame left little for him to set up an elaborate trap, let alone the basic _shabla_ they stumbled onto while backtracking through the lower dredges under Tipoca City. And as far as he was concerned it should have been _obvious_ that he wouldn’t have walked into his own trick, and headlong at that.

However, he was loath to admit that anyone _other_ than one of his brother Nulls caught him off guard. Not that anyone else _could_ , anyway. And the sonic detonators had been placed just outside their key exit point, a grated hole that opened to a fifty meter drop, just outside the main cloning facility. Only a complete _dini’la di’kut_ could maneuver that high to set up a ridiculously simple trap. They weren’t even—

“Oy, _Ord’ika,_ ” the voice of one of his brothers echoed over their shared frequency. Mereel glanced down the dark vertical shaft, a gloved hand held out to help Ordo in the event he moved his _shebs_ and decided to join him sometime this century.

“Kom’rk?” Ordo cursed in the dark.

“Find my gift yet?”

Mereel almost laughed, if the ringing pain in his ears hadn’t reminded him _it wasn’t funny._


	2. Storm is Coming

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mereel wanted to watch the end of summer on Kamino go.

“There’s a storm coming.”

Mereel dragged his eyes away from the massive, ominous black storm clouds rapidly expanding their way across the horizon. “Your observational skills are astounding.”

Jaing lightly kicked the side of the outer gray wall of Tipoca City, and then sighed over their secure frequency.

The few days of dry Kamino summer was coming to an end, and Mereel wanted to watch it go. Though _Kal’buir_ hid it, his surrogate sons could tell his ankle injury acted up less on the two, maybe three, days out of the local year. So Mereel felt it was up to him to record the last remaining minutes of the clear day to something more tangible than eidetic memory.

The two Nulls stopped a meter from the highest peak, maneuvering to assure they had the best view of the impending disaster.

“Make sure the line’s secure,” Jaing droned in his ear. Mereel pulled taut the wire and gave the thumps-up sign to his brother.

Already the storm clouds had doubled in size. Even from that distance, N-7 could see the sea churning violently, waves of deep green crashing and breaking in a cacophony of violent, frothing chaos and pissed off aiwha.

“And I wasn’t talking about the clouds,” Jaing elaborated after a moment of contemplative silence.

“Then what were you?” Mereel adjusted his grip on the … _differentially acquired_ , state-of-the-art datapad, aiming it towards the approaching storm, and recorded several still images. The air picked up around them, whistling eerily, and knocked around any loose kit not fully secured to their bodies.

“Don’t know. I have a bad feeling.”

“Ah.” Mereel briefly considered the consequence of loosening his zip line and plunging to the landing pad a hundred meters below. The image gave him a nice thrill, effectively sending a short burst of adrenaline into his bloodstream. He took the datapad, recorded ten seconds worth of holographic data regarding the storm front, and then tucked the device away.

Once the storm was upon them, it’d be another four hundred and sixty days before they could expect to see the sun again.


End file.
